Adam went into the arena to lend a hand with the crew, so I called Stacy to fill her in on my latest news and catch up on the antics back home.
“The bus is cramped,” I told her. “And smelly. And fascinating.”
“Gah. I can only imagine riding around with a freaking rock star in a rock-star tour bus.”
“And Adam wants me to sing with him tonight.”
“Like onstage?”
“Yeah. You sound about as confident about it as I do.”
She chuckled. “You’ll be great. Just picture everyone in their underwear or whatever.”
“Funny.” I sat down on a giant black trunk. I had no clue what it held, but it felt warm and made a comfortable perch to watch the crew move around while I chatted. “Are you going out with Kelly tonight?”
“Actually, no. Your mom invited me over to dinner tonight. I get the feeling she’d assumed you’d be back already and set this up. She told me Rick Whedon was coming over.”
“Oh, God.” My mom’s house seemed so far away from this world. “You don’t have to go.”
She hesitated. “Well, it’s okay. I think it will be nice.”
“Okay, but you do not have to entertain Rick Whedon, DDS.”
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean I won’t.”
My stomach lurched. “Oh, Stacy. You can do so much better.”
“Eden, you accidentally landed the hottest man on earth. But it’s not practical for me to expect more than what’s around here. Rick has a good job. He’s kind of cute.”
I didn’t want to tell her what to do. “Swoons, Stacy. Don’t talk yourself into a guy who doesn’t make you swoon. Remember?”
“Speaking of your swoon-worthy boyfriend—”
“Haven’t told him yet.” I understood her point of view, but I’d weighed out the options and had more or less decided not to tell him. The harm it could cause far outweighed the good. It’d been over a week since either of us had worn the perfume, and there were far too many other things in this life waiting to derail our fledgling relationship. Why add one more?
Shane crossed the parking lot, and a dozen girls called over from the barricades. He waved, and I noticed his eyes lingering, like he was shopping for a groupie. So many girls wanted to cross that barricade. When they looked at me, their smiles disappeared, clearly unsure what I’d done to get to hang out with the band. At best they might look at me like a rat in a cage—someone to study to figure out how to reproduce the results. At worst, they looked like they wanted to take me out and take my place.
Stacy had continued to ramble on about something while I’d been paying more attention to the crew. “—and I have to confess that Kelly and I went out last night and tested your perfume.”
I sat bolt upright. “You did what?”
“Don’t freak out. We were just curious. But oh, my God, did we get a lot of attention at the bar.”
My teeth ground together. “Of course you did. You always do. You’re two attractive girls in a sea of testosterone. On a Monday night.” My heart rate sped up. “And you were supposed to give the perfume to Thanh.”
“I did. I swear. But Kelly was there, and she asked if she could have it. He happily let her take it.”
“Of course he did. Guinea pigs in the wild.” I couldn’t find any words to say that didn’t seem hypocritical. “Just promise me you won’t wear it anymore.”
“You afraid I might land my own world-famous rock star?”
“Don’t.” I didn’t appreciate the implication that I’d attracted Adam that way. Mainly because I couldn’t be sure I hadn’t. And her teasing amped up my insecurities.
“Fine, but then don’t scold me if I try it out for myself.”
I had no argument against that, so I navigated us toward our good-byes. “Tell my parents I said hello and that I’m still alive.”
“And you tell Adam I said hello and that you met him while wearing a sex bomb.”
As soon as I hung up, Seamus jogged over and asked if I wanted to use the stadium facilities. Throughout the day, the guys had taken advantage of the showers provided for the band. They prepared for the sound check while I finally got a chance to clean up. Nobody warned me that traveling with a rock band could be so gross.
Adam walked me out onto the stage, and we did a final sound check together to an empty arena. Micah recorded it on his phone, and when he played it back, I had to admit it sounded great. But I warned Adam repeatedly he shouldn’t count on me. He just kept moving things one step closer to inevitable.
The energy increased as the arena filled, and that special hum of thousands of individuals creating a single voice grew louder. The guys felt it too, and they all moved around like they were amped on amphetamines. They were all superheroes in their own minds for a little while.
During the show, I sat ringside, mesmerized. The lights and the sounds intoxicated me. Micah’s band brought the crowd to their feet, and then Adam’s band went out and brought them to their knees.
For that night, they’d rigged up a mic offstage so I could sing facing Micah and a small makeshift audience rather than the entire stadium. When it came time, I nearly conquered my fears and climbed onto the stage, but then my nerves went into overdrive. I paced until the adrenaline wore off. Shaking my hands and wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, I stood in front of the hidden mic and waited for the song to start.
Adam sat onstage in the hushed auditorium, just him, his guitar, and the spotlight. He strummed and began to sing. I shut my eyes and listened to him, and then, like we’d practiced, I wove in the harmonies. It was just his voice and mine, intertwining, making love with each other in front of the whole world, invisible to everybody but us.
The song came to an end, and Adam surprised me by calling me out onstage. “She’s a little shy, so show her some love.”
The roar of the crowd grew louder, and my nerves returned with a vengeance. I hesitated at the side of the stage until Micah put his hand on my back and said, “Go on. They don’t bite.”
I stepped out next to Adam, blinking to adjust my eyes to the light. If I’d thought there was a charge to be had seeing fourteen smiling faces beaming up as I sang in a small club, I was unprepared for the raw energy of fourteen thousand people cheering.
For me.
I couldn’t make out any individuals except maybe right in the very front. They were an undulating sea of forms. Lights from cameras sparkled all over, like stars twinkling in the night sky, and signs waved high in the nosebleed section, impossible to read from my vantage point. I raised my hand up to the people up there.
And then I was coming off the stage, stepping down into the weird normal world of entertainers.
When Adam came offstage after another five songs, he found me and wrapped his arms around me. “You were hot.”
The crowd chanted and stomped for an encore. Adam gave me a kiss and said, “Hold that thought.” He bit his lip and raised his eyebrows. “Think I’ll get an encore with you tonight?”
His hand was the last thing to leave me as he was sucked back up onstage with his band.
“Please hurry back,” I groaned.
I was still high off that one moment in the spotlight. I could imagine it would be like a drug to those guys, night after night, performing their own music to the adulation of thousands. Adam had worked up to this level of success over a long time, but still, it amazed me he hadn’t succumbed to his own press. He should’ve been an insufferable prick, living with this kind of undiluted worship.
The tour moved on to Amsterdam’s Ziggo Dome, a far smaller venue than the Antwerp Sportpaleis, and Adam begged me to come sing onstage. “It’s no different than last night. Close your eyes and pretend you’re backstage.”
My hands shook as I stood at the microphone under the spotlight, so I took his advice and shut my eyes, listened to Adam, and went with it. After a while, I opened my ey
es and found a face in the audience to focus on. One person. It reminded me the crowd was made up of individual people. I could sing to them each, rather than picture them as a mass of humanity. It tricked my brain enough to allow me to relax and enjoy performing the song. But during the third verse, the trick wore off, and I couldn’t tell myself I wasn’t singing in front of thousands of people. I lost the lyrics for a heartbeat. If anyone noticed, nobody said.
After that show, the entire band was exhausted. Fortunately the next day was free.
We woke up in Hamburg. Adam got up and made me a breakfast of English muffins and peanut butter. Then he told me to get dressed so we could explore. We wandered around Hamburg, and nobody seemed to know who he was. Or maybe they just didn’t care.
We ate fish cake sandwiches and strolled along the river, hand in hand. He stopped as we crossed a bridge. I leaned against the rail to watch the boats pass underneath, and he came up behind me and wrapped his arms around me. His breath against my neck made my hairs stand on end.
“We should move here.”
I laughed. “Just pick up and move to Hamburg?”
“Why not? It’s beautiful here. And nobody takes pictures of us for walking down the street together.” He turned me to face him. “I can totally do this right here.” He put his hand on my back and kissed me.
My knees weakened. “Is this your idea of going slow? Moving to Hamburg together?”
“Why do you think I want to go slow?”
I leaned back to give him my are you shitting me look. “Are you shitting me? Don’t you remember wanting to slow down, stop having sex every time we met. Date?”
“I don’t think that worked. And besides, I didn’t like it.”
“Nor did I.”
I bit my thumbnail, pondering Stacy’s admonitions. If I’d wanted to tell him about the perfume, this would’ve been about as good a time to confess as I’d likely get. The whole idea of it might even seem preposterous, standing on this bridge so far from New Jersey. He’d laugh, and it would be behind us. I cast my eyes down the length of the bridge, desperately searching for the right words, but Adam touched my chin to draw me into a kiss. Then he grinned at me, and I knew Adam and I were fine. Our life was complicated right now, but our relationship was real and getting stronger all the time. It would be stupid to risk all this on something that wouldn’t matter in the long run.
A couple passed by us, and I caught the girl craning her neck. Either checking out my hot boyfriend or gawking. Maybe Adam wasn’t totally unknown here.
Adam bounced in his Vans. “Let’s do it. Let’s move to Hamburg. Or Paris.”
His insane proposition completely derailed thoughts of confession. “And what about your band?”
“I could quit the band.” He ran his finger along my cheek. I was starting to think it was a bad idea to be so far away from the bus.
“Are you high? You wouldn’t quit your band.”
“I could start a new one.” His hand found mine, and he squeezed it.
The one complication that rankled me was our continued secrecy. I wrested my hand free.
“Adam, do you really have to move to Hamburg and quit your band to kiss me in public?”
He jerked his head back in surprise. “Of course not. I’ve kissed you in public. Haven’t I?”
“No. You haven’t. Not in broad daylight.”
He slid his arm around my waist, tilting his head at me, all charm. “Can I make up for lost time?”
I fought through my building desire. I needed to say what weighed on my mind. “Adam, are you ever going to stop the rumors about Adrianna?”
He walked to the edge of the bridge and stood beside me, peering over. “Actually, she and I talked about that. I told her it was unfair to you to keep letting people speculate. Especially after she was in Paris. It’s gotten out of hand.”
“And?”
“And she’s going to make a statement.”
“When?”
“I don’t know. I’d hoped she would do it yesterday, but she’s not the most reliable person in the world. Soon.” He made eye contact. “I promise, if she doesn’t say anything by the time you go home, I will. Okay?”
I believed him. I leaned against him and let him pull me close. “Okay.”
“But, Eden, all that stuff I warned you about before? If we go public, you’ll be in my world, in this bubble. You’re going to have to learn to live with the bullshit that comes from living in the limelight.”
“I thought we were moving to Hamburg.” I winked. “You could stop being so famous.”
“So you want my band to fall into obscurity?” He snuck his hand under the hem of my shirt and dragged it along my waistline.
“Yes.” It came out half whisper because he was driving me insane. I reached up and traced along his collarbone.
His eyes rolled back just before his lids closed. “You want me to get a job in a small town as an accountant?” He leaned in and laid gentle kisses all down the side of my neck.
I groaned out, “Architect,” and slipped my fingers into his belt loops so I could pull him closer to me. Evidence of his own mounting excitement pressed against me.
“I have to start by studying a modern masterpiece.” His hands wrapped around my waist as he ground into me. “Would you mind if we cut this walk a little short?”
“I was hoping you’d suggest that.” If he was half as turned on as I was, I didn’t know how he managed to walk.
And despite the fact the perfume must’ve finally worn off, he spent the next several hours proving that his attraction was powerful and, to my great relief, enduring.
That evening, the drivers parked the buses in a square, making a small central area where we could hang out without anyone watching us. Without a concert to put on or an audience to perform for, we set lamps around and unloaded folding chairs out from under the buses. The guys grabbed their guitars and cajón drums, and we all began to sing cover songs. It was a magical time.
Chapter 17
The next day it was back to the usual preshow activities. Despite the hiccup from the Amsterdam show, I felt ready to get back onstage. The fix of anonymous love from Adam’s fans temporarily overshadowed my fear of performing if I didn’t think about it too much.
The Hamburg show started out like any other. Micah’s band energized the crowd. Adam’s band brought the intensity up a thousandfold. But my phone buzzed right before my cue to go onstage and broke my concentration. Stacy had picked the worst possible time to try to reach me. I ignored her call and tossed the phone into my bag, trying to shake off my nerves and get back into the zone. A moment later, Adam called me out onstage to sing “Compulsion” with him.
I missed my opening, but recovered immediately. The faces in the front row were solemn, and I couldn’t find a single friendly fan to focus on. I worried I’d wrecked the song, which only made me screw up again. My hands trembled as nervous adrenaline impacted my vocals. Cameras flashed everywhere, and what once looked like the twinkling of stars suddenly felt like what it was—thousands and thousands of people watching me fuck up epically. When the song came to an end, Adam held his hand out to me, as though the performance had been flawless. He told the crowd, “Eden Sinclair, everyone.” The reception felt muted.
I walked down the steps, my knees wobbled, and I collapsed onto the concrete.
When I came to, Micah was at my side, calling some of the roadies over to help me up. He laid a hand on my forehead. “Eden, are you okay?”
My voice faltered when I said, “Just got dizzy.”
“Come on, let’s get back to the bus.” He led me toward the exit, probing me with questions the whole way. “Did you get enough food today? Were the lights too hot?”
I stopped him. “I got overwhelmed.”
“By what?”
“All of this. I’d rather stay back here and watch you guys.”
“The last two nights, you seemed to love performing.”
“I do, Mic
ah. But it all suddenly terrified me. It’s miles outside of my comfort zone. I need to work up to this.”
“I’m sure Adam would understand if you talk to him.”
He walked with an arm around my waist as we exited the arena. The fans near the barricades screamed in anticipation, but there was an undercurrent I’d never heard. Some of the fans were booing. I glanced over to see what had caused their reaction and discovered they were all watching me.
And booing.
So much for moving to Hamburg. Fans had never greeted me with warmth, but I was baffled by their hostility. Micah accompanied me onto the bus, and I asked, “What the hell is going on?”
He frowned. “I was hoping we could get out of town without you noticing, but there’s a story about you in the local paper today.”
“What?”
I grabbed my laptop and searched for “Hamburg Eden Sinclair.” An article in a gossip rag popped up in German. It showed a clear picture of Adam and me on the bridge in Hamburg in a very hot embrace. Under it, the text read something I didn’t understand, so I threw it into a translator.
The gist of it was simple. Adrianna, Adam’s supposed fiancée, had allegedly left the tour in tears when this interloper, that would be me, had dropped in on the tour in Paris. Fans reported seeing me show up in the meet-and-greet line to insinuate myself onto the tour bus. Since then, Adrianna had reportedly headed south to lick her wounds.
I Googled out of a sick curiosity and discovered the story had been picked up stateside. I was an international villain.
Holy fucking shit.
Micah sat next to me and put his arm around me. “It’ll be okay, Eden. Trust me.”
It was easy for him to say. This kind of personal invasion scared the shit out of me.
“Micah, I don’t know if I can do this anymore.”
He closed the lid of the laptop. “It’s just a bullshit article, Eden. You know it isn’t true. That’s all that matters, right?”
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